The Problem With Rebirth

Chapter 7

Arthur blinked as Sam spun his wild tale. The further on Sam went, the more worry and anger built within Arthur.

Merlin would always find trouble, it seemed. Or was it in reverse?

Arthur took a deep breath, and let the anger slide off, but the worry would not leave him be. So, at dinner, he slid in beside Harry at the Ravenclaw table, and thumped him.

Harry, having just sent a letter off, blinked owlishly before turning to Arthur. "Oi! Prat! What was that for?"

Arthur just leveled him with a glare, which only confused Harry further, until it clicked. "Oh." was Harry's silent whisper

"Yeah 'oh'!" Arthur hissed.

Harry looked at Arthur, eyes gleaming as he readied to defend himself. He was taken off guard as Arthur just sighed, seemingly dropping the fight.

"I didn't want to drag you into something dangerous." Harry tried. That seemed to make Arthur angrier.

"So you decided to just go off into something dangerous while I had to twiddle my thumbs, wondering what had become of you?!"

Harry sensed danger, but was never one to heed that sense. "Well, yes."

Arthur looked ready to murder him. "You Clot Pole!" He stood in a huff, unaware of the eyes now on them.

But Harry was aware. "Arthur! Sit down!" he tried.

Unfortunately, Arthur was having none of it. He leaned down, making sure only Harry could hear him. "We have always raced into danger together. We have always protected one another during those times. What makes this different?" he hissed, but never waited for an answer before storming from the hall.

That gave Harry something to think about. Arthur had been right. They had always protected one another. What made now different? Was it because Arthur did not have magic? That couldn't be it.

Harry knew that whatever fight he took up, Arthur would be there. Magic or no. He was still a skilled swordsman, and now-a-days a lot of wizards and witches just weren't as physically trained as they used to be.

A sword, if close enough, could still do a lot of damage to a wizard or witch. If anyone could get close enough, it was Arthur.

But what of spells? Arthur could get seriously hurt. Then again... Wasn't that what Harry was for? He could dispel most of the seventh year spells already, so it wasn't like it was a challenge really.

Besides, Harry was never a wizard. He was a something a bit different. A warlock.

Something the wizarding world never taught its people was that there were different kinds of casters. Though, even among them, warlocks were rare. Necromancers were a close second, but Italy still held some colonies of the practitioners.

The differences between warlock and wizard were subtle enough to where Harry could blend in as a wizard, but once he hit his zenith, it would be harder to hide.

Warlocks were descended from the origins of magic. They didn't have cores, like wizards. They simply heard magic's song, and danced to her dance. They felt it within their souls. To a warlock, magic was just like blood in their veins. It wasn't something they had to draw on, and it never depleted. It had no affinity because it was pure will.

To a warlock, there was no light or dark. Simply will. Warlocks needed no wand or motions to cast their spells. Simply the will to carry out their desires.

Wizards needed to study magic. They needed a focus, like wands, and they had cores with affinities towards light or dark. They would never know the true freedom of magic just under their skin.

While true, that some could forgo the physical focus, it still took them a great amount of concentration. And that distracted from so many other things... Like a sword hurtling towards you.

Though, there was one thing that being in a magical community granted Harry. He no longer had to hide his magic... Well, not like he used to. He just had to make it seem like he concentrated on what he was doing.

The reason he had to hide? Warlocks were considered dark because of the ease of access they had to their magic, and the power they wielded.

Harry scoffed. There was one weakness to every practitioner. Warlock was no difference, but instead of learning up on that, the Ministry had just gone ahead and stuck a label on warlocks, necromancers, sorcerers, voodoo, and the others. All of it labeled dark. Even the sorcerers who were rumored to be the closest to dragons.

Wizards thought they ruled the world of magic.

Harry shook his head, shaking off such heavy thoughts. He had to eat, and go after Arthur to apologize. But food first, he used a bit of magic on that letter, and needed to replenish his energy. It wouldn't do to be mid apology only to faint on Arthur, proving Arthur's point.

. . .

Arthur tried to calm down, he really did. It was just a bit harder without something to swing at. Maybe a run would blank his mind?

He wasn't sure anymore. And that is what disturbed him. He didn't know where he fit in. This world of magic was foreign to him, and he didn't know the rules. He was unsure if he even did fit.

He swore he would protect Harry and Sam, but... What good was he against magic?

That question troubled him more than he would ever let on.

He shook his head as he set off for the Great Lake. He had an hour and a half until curfew, so a good run was in order.

As he jogged around the lake, he thought about many things. Why was he so protective over Harry now? He had always been protective, true, but somehow, this was different. He knew he had to figure out why, but at the same time he could let it be. Just to see where that went.

He was so busy looking down, he nearly ran right into the source of all of his trouble as the other boy tried to approach him.

"Ack! Arthur!" Harry cried as Arthur showed no signs of stopping.

Jerking his head up, he saw Harry and was just barely able to stop in time.

Harry's wide green eyes made Arthur laugh, and the tension between the two boys slowly started to dissolve as Harry joined in.

Arthur flung his arm around Harry's shoulders as he had many times in the past. "We are both Clot Poles." he declared. Harry nodded in agreement.

"To be fair, we are both trying to work our way into this world." Harry said. Arthur shot him a curious look, and Harry went on to explain the differences between a wizard and a warlock and why he had to hide... again.

Arthur actually followed along a lot better than Harry thought he would. When voiced, Arthur shrugged. "You have the ability to teach. What can I say?" Harry beamed at his friend.

"Speaking of! I need to learn from you." Harry said as the boys sat under a tree.

"Huh? What could you possibly want to learn from me?" Arthur was genuinely curious. Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm not good at dodging or any of the physical means." he explained. Arthur frowned in thought.

"Why would you need to be? You have magic."

Harry sighed. "Magic is all well and good, but being a bit physical couldn't hurt. Stamina in a duel would be amazing, and the ability to dodge your opponent's spells would be useful."

Arthur agreed that he would train Harry, but only if Harry taught him a bit more about the magical world.

Harry could understand why Arthur wanted to know. It was a world that he was now firmly a part of. He needed to know, and not just wizarding customs. Arthur needed to know a lot more than just the limited views of wizards and witches.

But, with everything going on, how would Harry teach the once and future king?

He sighed, and tugged on Arthur's coat. "Yule is coming up. It has its own customs." He pointed out, not sure where else to start.

Arthur, thankfully, understood. They began discussing the differences between Christmas and Yule.

It wasn't long before they were darting back inside to beat the five minuet curfew time.

. . .

Sam would know that guilty look anywhere. He rose a brow as Ron kept shooting those looks towards Hermione. Soon enough, Sam could not take it anymore. Nudging Ron, he leaned closer as to not get caught talking during Charms.

"Why do you keep giving her that look?" Sam asked, making sure his voice did not carry.

Ron blinked at him in surprise, but looked down to his feet after a moment. "I'm the reason she was in the bathroom that night." he confessed.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Always the tactless one, huh?" It was a true statement. Ewan had always had a habit of just letting whatever was in his head roll off his tongue. Many a time, he was lucky he had not lost his head.

Ron ducked his head down even further, and his face turned red. What had he said to Hermione? Sam asked as much. As the words left his mouth, Ron's ears turned red.

"I mocked her, and called her a know-it-all." he muttered, but Sam heard. He sighed at his companion's poor taste in words.

"And, of course, you had no intentions of her overhearing you." Ron nodded to that assessment.

Sam rolled his eyes. Goodness, how would Harry handle this? Probably not the best question, with his short fuse, but he was running out of options.

"Did you apologize?" He asked, and Ron's head shot straight up, eyes wide.

"I tried!" he yelled, and suddenly, the eyes of the entire class were upon them, including Flitwick's.

"Good going." Sam muttered.

"Ten points from Gryffindor!"

Ron groaned, and let his head slide to his desk.

The year passed slowly, after Halloween. Christmas holidays were a ruckus within the walls of Hogwarts.

The students that had stayed behind were up to their usual tricks and attempts to neck in the astronomy tower.

James smiled. It seemed as if nothing ever really changed within Hogwarts' great walls. As if she were her own island of calm separation from the rest of the world.

A war could be brewing outside of those gates, but Hogwarts would always be a safe haven.

. . .

She looked at him, disappointment shuttering through her eyes like shards of glass through his heart.

"You were given one mission. Just the one. You were almost there, and then I had to pull you from the clutches of darkness. Why have you failed me so?" Her tone was ice in his veins.

Now he felt as if he truly did have a stutter. "M-madam, I h-humbly be-eg your p-pardon! He wa-as not strong e-enough! He was not rea-ady."

The temperature of the room dropped. "Are you saying that my judgment was flawed?"

The barbed question spelled death for him in any direction. He had to be crafty, or it really would end with his blood.

"No, madam. Is that not why you sent me in? To test the boy, and see if he was ready?"

Her shoulders slackened at his words, and he sighed an internal sigh of relief.

"Well, if he is not ready, then you are not the one he needs to ready him." She says off offhandedly before shoving her hand through his chest, and reaching his heart.

As his body lay on the floor, eyes not comprehending the sight of her devouring his heart, a whisper reached his ear.

"You were always going to die." She says as she calmly walks from the circular chamber, her bare feet barely making a sound.

"Prepare the others." She commanded, knowing her orders were heard, and would be followed.

. . .

END CHAPTER!

Happy Holidays!